My Life Would Suck Without You
by qtig
Summary: She could see him from her window. Not that she watched him—obviously. A.U
1. Obviously

Author's Note: This is A.U. (which will become apparent soon enough). If after this first part you're left with questions, that's intentional :) Also, please leave any and all feedback. It would be much appreciated :)

** Obviously**

* * *

She could see him from her window. Not that she watched him—obviously. There were just always... opportunities.

She looked at her journal without actually looking at it and then glanced back out. Still there.

Scruffy hair. Worn jeans. Sad eyes. Leather jacket.

She saw him glance down at his cell—then his eyes flashed to her window and hers flashed quickly back down.

Five words into her makeshift sentence and her phone rang.

* * *

"Derek's here!" Lizzie called from downstairs.

Casey shouted back, "I know!"

She grabbed her Calculus book—not before checking her hair in the mirror and then denying she'd taken the time—and headed down the steps. Derek was waiting for her there, hands stuffed in his pockets, and absentmindedly nodding at something Lizzie was rambling to him about.

"…that's why the Ozone Layer is so important-"

"Yeah, right, cool, awesome—you got my notes, Spazzo?"

"Don't call me that!" Casey cried, although somewhat half-heartedly since she knew he would _always _call her that.

"Is that a 'yes' or a 'no'?"

"It's a 'yes'; obviously." She held out the papers in front him. He reached for them with a smirk, but then she pulled them away, tucking them safely behind her back. "But, there are strings."

"There are always strings with you," Derek said, "You're like a yarn ball....but lamer."

"I am not lame."

"Right. And, I'm not failing Calc." He rolled his eyes, "What do you want?"

"I need a ride to the mall later."

"What, are your feet broken?"

She huffed, took exactly two steps towards the stairs, and his palm was on her on wrist, then his fingers too, grasping her in that, "I have to control everything you do, because I'm obnoxious" way he had. He spun her back. "Fine," he said, "Now gimme."

Casey smiled, a softer version of his infamous smirk, and slipped from his grasp. "I'll need a ride back, too."

"Fine," he said.

He snatched the papers from her hand. He looked over them, but she could tell he wasn't entirely focused. "What were you gonna do if I said 'no'?"

She shrugged. "Well, since my feet aren't broken—unlike your brain—I would have walked. It's only a mil-"

"Don't you watch the news?" he said, crashing into her sentence.

She squinted. "No. Do you?"

"No," he said, "But, my dad does. Some random girl got assaulted last night. She had a goofy ponytail just like you. Don't be stupid."

He wouldn't look directly at her. His hand was rubbing the back of his neck. He looked uncomfortable. She almost called him on it.

"Fine," she said instead.

"Good," he mumbled.

Beat.

"I should go," he said.

"Right," Casey smiled wryly, "Wouldn't want to hold you up from all that intense homework copying."

"Whatever."

"I hate when you say that," Casey said, mimicking his slow steps towards the front door, "Everything's 'whatever' with you."

"Whatever," he said again.

He smirked. His eyes were brown. She liked brown.

He opened the door. "I'll pick you up after practice."

"Eww." Her nose scrunched. "Shower first."

"Most girls like my masculine musk."

"Well, I'm not most girls."

"Yeah, yeah, go write a novel about it." He waved her off and Casey rolled her eyes, "Six o'clock. Musk n' all. Take it or leave it."

"Like I have a choice," she said dryly, "Because obviously I'd choose a stroll in a blazing fire than five minutes in the car with you."

Her insult bounced right off his chest. "And, yet you're always around me."

His eyes were smug—as they were way too often—as he walked a few steps back, Casey following him past the threshold of the doorway.

"You are so arrogant. And so vain. And, did I mention deluded…"

His lips quirked, bemused. "No, you hadn't gotten there yet."

"I only hang out with you because I'm stuck with you. Our stupid parents and their stupid club. And, Lizzie and Edwin and their stupid friendship. Our stupid houses right next to each other. Your stupid car and my stupid not-car. It's all stupid. But, not as stupid as you—who, did I mention—is stupid?"

"Is that 'yes'; or a 'no'?"

She huffed. "It's a 'yes'; obviously."

* * *

It was more "their car" than Derek's car. She helped him get his license—it took him three tries. She washed it for him when she lost bets. He gave her rides everywhere, even though—of course—he made her work for it.

She threw up in it once when she ate too much ice cream.

--

"How's this?" she asked him.

Derek glanced up idly from his comic and sighed. "It's fine, Case. Can we leave now?"

"You didn't even look," she whined.

"Fine." He leaned over the jewelry counter and peered at the silver locket. It was heart-shaped. "Could you be any more girly?"

"Possibly," she deadpanned, "If I tried. Now for real, what do you think?"

"It's fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "Whatever."

"It's not 'whatever', Derek," she said, returning her own eye roll, "It's going to be swinging on my neck every day. It sort of needs to look nice."

"And, spoil this whole 'ugly' thing you got goin?" He frowned. "That'd be a shame."

"I'm not ugly," she hissed.

It was her normal agitated voice, with a tinge of something else.

Derek sighed, shifted back and forth as if deciding, and then muttered, "I never said you were ugly."

"You just did," she said, arms folded, "What, do you need an instant-replay?"

"Let me see it on you, Spazzo."

"Don't call me that." Again, half-hearted, as he hovered behind her, comic forgotten on the glass. He lifted the necklace and—with the delicate grace of a hockey forward—slipped it round her neck. His hands were rough. It tickled.

She watched him in the mirror, watched as he watched the necklace on her. His eyes weren't mush, but they weren't hard either. "S'okay," he mumbled.

That meant "good" in Derek speak.

"I don't know how you're gonna afford this," he said, eyes finally dragging from the curve of her neck.

"Why do you think I work all the time?"

He shrugged. "Because you have no life and don't mind working weekends?"

She glowered at him in the mirror. But, he'd already moved back to his comic.

"It comes with a matching bracelet," she said, half to herself, "But, uh, nevermind…"

She trailed off and Derek's eyes trailed to her wrist. Blue, red, green, yellow beads and half a shoelace round her wrist. His head ducked. Then it rose again.

"I can't believe you still wear that."

His voice was low, his eyes back on the comic. She couldn't read him and she usually could.

"You gave it to me," she said quietly, "So you know, 'duh.'"

He smirked, but not meanly."I also gave you that worm in second grade. You didn't keep that."

"That's because you ate it," she said, laughter coming with the memory, "You are so gross." Her nose scrunched, "I don't see how you get girls anywhere near that mouth."

She thought about that mouth a lot.

Mostly just wishing he'd shut it up. Sometimes…not so much.

He snorted. "Well, I don't give them shoelaces with beads on them anyhow."

"Derek Venturi," she said, holding up her wrist and demanding his full attention, "This is nicest thing you've ever done for me. Arguably the only nice thing. No way I'm not wearing it every day 'til I die."

"I was ten, Case."

"You were sweet," she said.

Her voice was tinged with wistfulness. Her fingers traced the beads.

His head ducked. "Yeah, well…whatever."

"_Whatever_," Casey mimicked, eyes rolling. She sighed and said goodbye to the moment. "Could you be any more emotionally stunted?"

"Possibly," he said with a smirk, "If I tried."

* * *

Being with him in public was weird. Everyone thought they were either siblings—gross—or dating—less gross. But, still: gross.

* * *

"Almost forgot," Casey said as Derek killed the engine, both of them sitting in his driveway—only a few yards from her driveway. She slipped him a strip of notebook paper.

He opened it. "What's this?"

Casey rolled her eyes. "Rebecca McGuire's phone number. Apparently, I'm your secretary now."

"Nah, no way. I only have hot secretaries."

Casey scowled at him. A little more than usual when she saw him study the number.

"She's flaky. Boring. You wouldn't like her."

Her hand reached for the door, but Derek's hand reached for her forearm, stopping her. "Flaky?" he repeated, "Boring? Who are we talking about here?"

"I'm not flaky. I'm not boring."

His hand was still on her. His lips quirked. "We're _definitely_ talking about you."

"Ungh!" she grunted and stole her arm away.

"Woah." Derek's brows jumped. "Calm down, Spazzo."

"I am calm," she lied.

"You seem a little bothered."

"Yeah, well, you bother me."

She left the car and he didn't stop her, the door slamming in her usual huff. He rolled his eyes and got out from the other side.

"Don't be jealous," he said, "I'm sure there's some unlucky lameo with your name written all over him."

"I am not jealous," she said—and she was almost sure it was true. She crossed her arms, "Unlike some Venturis who shall remain nameless, I don't need relationships to feel good about myself."

He cocked his head. "Well that explains why you're never in any."

She punched his arm. Hard. Not playful at all. "I can't stand you," she hissed, stomping away.

She made it all the way to her front door, Derek watching in bemusement, before she turned abruptly, and marched back towards him.

Derek raised a brow.

"This is for you." She reached into her purse and pulled out a C.D. "For D" was scribbled on the front, "It's supposed to help you sleep."

His faced dropped. The sad came back to his eyes. "I don't need it."

"Yeah, you do," she said softly, "I see can under your eyes." Her thumb brushed below his lashes to prove it, "You're not sleeping."

He looked away. He wouldn't say anything.

"Dreams?" she asked.

"Whatever," he said.

He breathed out. She breathed in. She squeezed by his elbow, the leather crunching slightly. "Just try it," she said.

He shrugged. "Whatev-"

"I hate when you say that."

Derek looked down, the C.D. tucked in his hand. "Marti's been asking about you. Wondering when you'll be over again. For Tea Time."

"I'll come over tomorrow," she said instantly.

"Alright."

A few steps between them and Casey realized she would have had to come back outside, C.D. or not, because she hadn't hugged him yet. Her arms latched around his neck, and he just stood there, like he did every night, not stopping her, but not really helping either. The C.D. poked at her ribs.

* * *

Before she went to bed she looked out the window. She could see him from there. And she watched him—obviously.


	2. The boy and the girl next door

I cannot express how happy feedback makes me. So…I guess I'll just say, "thanks." :)

**The boy (and the girl) next door**

* * *

Derek never did learn how to treat Marti like a girl. So, as usual, she had to do it for him.

* * *

"Queen Spacey!"

There was a blur of pink, purple, and yelping and then Marti was in her arms, smothering her with kid joy. Had it really been that long?

"You're back from the rain forest!"

"Rainforest?"

Casey scrunched her nose, shifted Marti on her hip, and looked pointedly at the four-year old.

"You know," Marti said, "Your top secret bunny mission."

A floorboard creaked, and Casey's eyes shifted to the steps, where apparently Derek had been standing for a while now, watching them. She quirked her lips.

"Yeah, well those bunnies can't save themselves, can they?"

"Not unless they're giant bunnies, with nun chucks."

"Right," Casey said slowly, "'Nun chucks, of course."

Derek bowed his head, the closest thing he ever allowed to a smile riding his lips. "Why don't you give her some breathing room, Smarti?"

Marti pouted and Casey shook her head. "No, no. No worries. The mermen taught me how to hold my breath underwater. So I don't need much air."

"Mermen?" Marti and Derek asked at once.

"Yup; mermen."

Casey winked at Derek and he lifted incredulous brows as Marti beamed up at her. "Were they handsome mermen? Like Derek? Did you fall in love?"

"Um..." She glanced questioningly at Derek, who also looked baffled, "Well, first of all, Derek's not handsome. And secondly, no: I like swimmers, not mermen."

"They don't have anything under the waist," Derek said, sending Casey a strange, but steady look.

"What do you mean 'under the waist'?'" Marti asked innocently.

Casey covered her ears instantly and glared at him. "Derek! Nothing, Marti; nothing important takes place under the waist."

"Everything important takes place under the waist."

'Nothing', Casey mouthed to him, sending him her best stern look. Which of course, wasn't very convincing. He'd seen that one way too many times.

"Are you still going monkey hunting? 'cause that's not very nice," Marti cried.

Casey squinted and Derek smirked, reaching for the worn leather coat on the banister.

"I promise I won't hurt any monkeys, Smarti…" He waggled his eyebrows, "This time."

"Eww, meanie pants!"

Marti pulled a face at him and Derek gave her a light hip bump—actually mostly Casey—before slipping on his coat.

Casey turned with him and asked—just out of curiosity, "Going somewhere, Monkey Hunter?"

He titled his head at her, like a gentlemen (probably something he'd seen in some lame British movie) "Is the lady requesting my company?"

"The 'lady' is surprised you actually referred to her as a 'lady." She smiled. "And, no."

"I was talking to Marti," Derek said with a smirk.

Casey rolled her eyes and they shared one of their patented looks—teetering on annoyance and affection—as he zipped up his coat.

"I'll be back in an hour or so," Derek said to Marti. Or her. She wasn't sure.

* * *

Derek was very (read: insanely) protective of Marti. Casey didn't take it lightly that he freely and frequently left her alone with her.

* * *

"Now we're on the moon," Marti said, her feet moving suddenly, frantically backwards around the room.

Casey didn't get it—she didn't get most things Marti said—but she played along, running backwards, too, in the den.

"We're moon walking," Marti cried as they soared past each other, "Like the apricots!"

"Astronauts!" Casey cried back.

Then Marti abruptly stopped—thank goodness—and Casey wasted no time stopping with her.

"That was awesome!" Marti said. "Just like real aperknots."

That was wrong. That was really wrong. But, Casey pushed down her inner perfectionist. "Took the words right out of my mouth."

"Ewww—not from your mouth—that's gross—Derek says you have a big mouth."

Casey's face followed her rant: amused, bemused, annoyed.

"Sounds like Derek alright," she muttered, "Remind me to 'thank' him for that later."

"Okey Dokey."

Marti sprinted over to her, small, light feet padding the floorboards between them. She pulled softly on Casey's hair and said, not so softly, "Your hair's like hers!"

Casey frowned, tensing.

"Now, let's spin, Spazzo, spin!"

Spazzo? She was going to stone Derek later. But, now, she was going to spin.

Casey rolled her eyes—mostly at her self—and took off with Marti, watching her, studying her, trying to imitate that wild, dangerous carelessness of a child, until…

She spun. Over and over. Till her head kind of hurt. And then she spun again.

Soon Marti was giggling. Or maybe that was her. When was the last time she'd laughed so hard in this room?

She spun.

Then there was Derek again, his entire face open, brows high, eyes wide, grin toothy and free. She was breathless. Mostly from the spinning.

That was lie. Mostly from the way he was looking at them. She hadn't seen that look. Not a in a long time.

She stared at him and he was staring at her, and then Marti, and then her, and then the little girl crashed into him, and he gently, affectionately pulled her up against him.

* * *

Sometimes she felt more at home in his house than hers. Sometimes she wanted to be anywhere else in the universe but home.

* * *

"I think she likes you more than me," Derek said.

He was sitting on a stool in the kitchen, while Casey did dishes—as always. Marti was chasing her imaginary friend in and out of the living room.

"Everyone likes me more than you."

She squirted some soap on the sponge, and Derek snorted. "On what planet, Spazzo?"

"Planet Earth. You may have read about it in one of your disgusting space comic books." She sent a half-hearted glare over her shoulder. "And, stop calling me Spazzo around Marti. She's starting to pick it up."

"Really?" Derek's eyes widened. "Sweet. I've been trying to teach her for like a week now."

"Derek!"

"' 'Casey!'" He whined back—like he knew she hated.

"You are so obnoxious."

"And, you have broad shoulders."

"I do not!"

"Man shoulders."

"Manlier than yours anyway."

"I won't deny that."

He skimmed her shoulders with lazy fingertips—when the heck had he'd snuck up on her anyway—and she squeaked. "Derek!"

She slapped him with the sponge. Suds bounced between them, on his chest, the mess of his hair, a few soap specks on his right dimple.

It wasn't cute. It was just…

"Ah!"

He grasped her, arresting her from behind like she was some dumb hockey player—she hated when he did that—and pulling her up against him, her tiptoes leaving the ground.

"Gah-Derek! Would you stop it?"

"What's the number one rule?" He said by her cheek, "What's the number one rule in hockey?"

"Don't." She kicked at his shin, "Get." She wiggled her torso. "Tied up," she finally grunted in frustration.

God he was so aggravating. And, he smelled weirdly great, like cinnamon or something. It must been that Captain Crunch he was so into.

He tensed. Her toes and then the flat of her feet touched the ground. Her eyebrows pinched. Her head tilted and his head titled with her.

"Are you—are you sniffing my hair?"

"No," he said instantly, pulling back. "Yes—no—a little; sorry."

Her neck craned and she looked at him like he was an alien.

"It's just. Your hair. It's like hers."

She turned to him and his voice was soft, and so was his hand as it smoothed her locks. "Sorry."

She blinked. "It's okay."

She didn't move, so he didn't stop; his rough thumb brushing her widow's peak, dipping over and under her ear, stroking back towards the nape of her neck. She looked at him and it was like he was really, _really_ looking at her. But, then somehow, not at all.

"Is this weird?" he whispered.

"Yes."

Weird, but sweet. Sweet and sad.

"WHAT?! WHAT?! WHAT?!" Marti shrieked as if it were the funniest word ever.

They both jumped, more from shock than any sheepishness—although that was there, too—and watched the pink and purple blur capture the room.

Casey stepped forward, happy for the distraction.

"And, how do you spell 'what'?"

"T-A-H-W-BLEEB!"

"That's backwards," Casey said with a frown, "And, what's 'bleeb?'"

"The twenty-eighth letter of the alphabet."

Casey crossed her arms, looked up, and sent Derek a long, warning glare.

"Of course you'd automatically assume it's my fault. Which it is."

He smirked and it shouldn't have been charming. It really shouldn't have been.

"It's been a good day, hasn't it been, Smarti?" Derek asked, almost coo-like and Casey watched him with more than a little bemusement, "Hanging out with Spacey?"

Those brown eyes flickered to hers. "This is Smarti-speak, not me."

"It was awesome!" Marti cried over Casey's scowl, "We walked on the moon. Like apricots."

"Apraknots," Derek 'corrected,' earning another eye roll from his friend, "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"'It's astronauts'," Casey said.

She slipped her arms around Marti and in between Derek's arms—a weird, pretzel like hug—and shifted Marti's weight to her torso.

"You can't have her," Derek said, "She's my sister and the damage has already been done."

"You mean your brain damage? Yeah, I picked up on that. Marti, on the other hand," Casey said, patting the smiling child's back, "Is still pure, innocent, ladyli-"

_BURP!_

Right in her face.

Derek fell over into laughter, his hands clutching his knees. "Classic."

Casey frowned.

"I'm calling child services."

"Go ahead, it's on speed dial," Derek gasped through a chortle.

There was a loud, creaky groan of wood. Both teens tensed. Then the front door opened. Derek straightened, Marti pouted, and Casey didn't hesitate to place her quickly back into his arms.

"Front door means 'bad day'," Marti mumbled.

Derek frowned and glanced over his sister's head to Casey, "Car must have crapped out on the street again."

Casey frowned, too. "I thought he was gonna get it fixed?"

"Yeah, well…"

"Stupid stupid Prince," George cursed, shoes scraping on the wood floor as he skulked into the kitchen. He glanced up at Casey, back down, and then suddenly back, "Casey, hi!"

He grinned, and Casey could tell he was trying really, really hard to make her feel at home; but she decided to spare him.

"Hey, George." She put on her patented, perky smile. "Great to see you; it's been a while. I was, uh, just leaving though. Gotta help Lizze with, you know, stuff."

She could feel Derek rolling his eyes behind her as she passed-by George.

"Oh, well, um, that's too bad." George's tired, relieved eyes said the opposite. "We would have loved company. But, uhm, why don't we do dinner some other time this week, okay?"

She smiled sweetly. "Sounds great."

* * *

That was a lie, too.


End file.
